


Cognitive Dissonance

by TheAceApples



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, it was fun to write at least, this was honestly me just procrastinating on like four other bingo fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/pseuds/TheAceApples
Summary: Some Federal soldiers discover what Locus looks like under his helmet and have a hard time coping.(Originally written for the "Gen" square of the 2017 RvB Bingo Wars.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this hilarious post: http://waaaaaaaaash.tumblr.com/post/157729023928/what-if-locus-got-it-wrong-in-his-diary-and

_“No,”_ Raphael hissed, backing several steps away from the table. Or, more specifically, the data-pad resting on it and the image that it showed.

“Absolutely not,” Jessup agreed, folding their arms with a distrustful squint.

Nastasja simply blinked at the picture while Alexandrine, always the more exuberant of the two, shook her head emphatically. “I refuse to believe that that’s real. No way.”

Hal glared at them all. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?” he demanded from the other side of the mess hall table, one proprietary hand still on the data-pad. “I risk life and limb to get this for you people and you think it's—what, a _fake_?”

“It _is_ a little blurry,” Nastasja ventured after a moment of silence.

“Oh, _bullshit_ ,” Hal sputtered, “that’s just the steam. It was in the _showers_ for Christ’s sake. Do any of _you_ wanna barge in on him while he’s showering and then try to stealth a picture while convincing him not to kill you at the same time?”

The group all shuffled their feet awkwardly and Hal snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I fucking _thought_ ,” he said smugly.

“But—but it doesn’t make any sense!” Jessup suddenly burst out, running an agitated hand through their wiry curls. “How is he so _pretty_?”

“He has such beautiful grey eyes, _what the fuck_!” Raphael added, moving back up to the table to cautiously peer at the helmet-cam picture once again. He sounded equally fascinated and horrified by the realization, with just a touch of awe coloring his voice.

“How is it possible that _this man_ ”—Nastasja gestured at the data-pad—“is the same as _that one_.”

None of them knew where Locus was so they all glanced around worriedly, terrified to be caught. Alexandrine remained unmoved, however. “I refuse to accept this,” she repeated, deep brown eyes narrowed in defiance. “It doesn’t make any sense. Locus isn't—he can’t be—”

Words seemed to fail her as she cast around for an appropriate adjective. Before she found one, however, a horrifyingly familiar voice sounded from behind the group. “I cannot be _what_ , Corporal Nikkos?”

Alexandrine, Jessup, and Raphael all shrieked and spun around—Raph tripping over his own feet and crashing into Jessup as he did—while Hal and Nastasja both dove to hide the data-pad from sight. After a few seconds of embarrassed shuffling, they all turned their attention toward… Well, he wasn’t _quite_ a superior officer, but he may as well have been.

A strained silence engulfed them for several moments as they all scrambled for something to say. Eventually, Alexandrine managed to squeak out, “ _Dead_ , sir.”

Everyone turned to look at her, and she straightened slightly. “We heard a rumor that you had been killed on your latest mission, but, uh, I figured it was just that. A rumor… sir.”

A split-second later, they were all chiming in to back her up, moving around each other in order to block Hal from view as he stowed the data-pad in his bag. Locus tilted his head at them slightly. “I see,” he said after an uncomfortably long silence. Then, without another word, he strode away towards the kitchen door.

They all waited until he was out of sight before breathing a collective sigh of relief. Jessup’s sounded distinctly like a sob and Hal slumped over on the table, his limbs seeming to have failed him altogether.

“I think I just had a fucking heart-attack,” Jessup gasped with one hand clutched to their chest. They reached out a single, unsteady hand behind them and sat down on the bench without looking. “Someone call Dr. Grey. I’m afraid to try walking any time within the next twenty minutes and my patrol starts in fifteen.”

Raphael stared at the kitchen door with a look of contemplation on his face. “I’d do him,” he announced a second later, to varied reactions from the rest of them group.

“Nah, man,” Hal disagreed, voice a little muffled as he was still flopped bonelessly on the table. “He probably keeps the helmet on even in bed, you know?”

Nastasja let out a startled peal of laughter and sat down along with the rest as they began to debate, in hushed tones, what they thought he’d be like in the sack. It was unanimously agreed that he probably _would_ keep his helmet on.


End file.
